Mr. Death in the Steam World

Moen paused slightly and turned to look at Martha.

"Ms. Coleman, have you been feeling unwell lately?"

Martha waved her hand and smiled somewhat embarrassedly.

"It's nothing, it's nothing. I was just a little stressed and my throat was a bit itchy a few days ago. It should be fine in a couple of days, Mr. Marcus, don't worry."

Moen glanced at her, said nothing more, and simply nodded to say goodbye.

The two walked out of the block where Coleman lived and stopped at the public stage on the corner.

The afternoon sun was obscured by clouds, casting a hazy gray shadow on the street.

Moen leaned against a pillar in the post station, his brows furrowed slightly.

"Miss Ignis, have you noticed something?"

"Um?"

"It seems like there are quite a few people coughing lately."

Phils paused for a moment, tilted her head and thought for a while, a hint of uncertainty appearing on her face.

"Now that you mention it... it does seem true? But I haven't paid much attention to it."

"You think this cough isn't quite right?"

"I can't quite put my finger on it," Moen shook his head. "It's just that I've been dealing with so many coughs lately, and it makes me feel uneasy."

"My sister's classmate, her homeroom teacher Mr. Baker, and now Martha too. Although none of them have any serious symptoms, but..."

He didn't finish his sentence. As a time traveler, he knew better than the people of this world what infectious diseases and epidemics were.

This world has supernatural powers, contained objects, and magicians. Who knows what deadly thing might be hidden behind a seemingly ordinary cough?

But these were just his intuitions, without any substantial evidence.

Seeing his expression, Phils put away her usual relaxed demeanor and nodded seriously.

"I understand. Although I don't go out much, I can keep an eye out for you."

"Then I'll have to trouble you."

As he spoke, Moen took the butterfly hair clip out of his pocket and handed it back to Phils.

Phils stared at the hair clip in silence for a few seconds, then suddenly looked up.

"Mr. Marcus."

"Um?"

"You said before that you wanted to exchange contact information."

Moen raised an eyebrow, thinking that Phils had already brushed the matter aside.

"Didn't you say that the Ignis family rules forbid it?"

Based on his understanding of Phils, she would most likely blush.

Unexpectedly, her gaze was unusually serious this time.

"Because I think you're someone I can trust. You proved that during those two days in Wonderland. Besides..."

She paused, then softened her voice.

"If your cough is really serious, it's always good to have more people know your whereabouts in case something happens."

Looking into her earnest eyes, it was Moen's turn to feel lost this time.

He coughed twice, embarrassed, and seeing the worried look in Phil's eyes, he immediately realized that she had misunderstood. He quickly waved his hand, looking extremely awkward.

Phils looked at Moen with some confusion, then casually rummaged through her bag and pulled out a quill pen and parchment, writing a few lines.

Moen took it and glanced at it, somewhat surprised.

Phils lived on a street in the East Side of Kansas City, not far from the Marcus Detective Agency, about a ten-minute walk away.

"You live quite close to me."

He put the parchment in his pocket and casually gave the address of the firm.

Phils's eyes widened instantly.

"You live on Second Street?!"

"yes."

Why didn't you say so sooner!

"You didn't ask."

The air fell silent.

Fils awkwardly tucked the hair clip into her hair and turned to leave.

"I...I'll head back now! I have something to do! I'll let you know if I hear anything!"

Her figure walked faster and faster, farther and farther away, until she turned the street corner and disappeared.

Moen leaned against a pillar in the post station, looking in the direction Phils had left, and couldn't help but chuckle.

This is the Phils he knows.

He straightened his collar and turned to walk towards the office.

Moen stopped as he passed the flower shop on the street corner.

A row of wooden buckets stood in front of the flower shop, filled with colorful flowers: red roses, white lilies, and yellow daisies, all blooming vibrantly.

The shop owner was a middle-aged woman wearing a green apron, who was pruning the branches with a pair of scissors.

"Sir, would you like to buy some flowers? The roses just arrived this morning, they're very fresh."

Moen thought for a moment, then pointed to the bunch of daisies in the corner.

"Wrap up a small bunch of those for me."

The middle-aged woman deftly picked out a few daisies, wrapped them in kraft paper, and tied them with a straw rope.

Clara has been working really hard these past few days preparing for her final exams, so I'm sending her a bouquet of flowers as a reward.

After turning the last street corner, the sign for the Marcus Detective Agency came into view.

He pushed open the door, then froze.

The office looked like it had been swept by a tornado.

The documents that were once neatly arranged on the table were now scattered all over the floor, and several sheets of white paper were covered with footprints of varying depths.

The ink bottle had been overturned sometime ago, and the dark blue ink dripped down the edge of the table, forming a small puddle on the floor.

And right in the center of that ink puddle, a black cat was crouching.

Lucy tilted her head, her tail swishing back and forth in the ink puddle, splashing tiny ink dots.

He looked as innocent as could be.

"Lucy," Moen's voice was calm, "can you explain what's going on?"

"Meow." (The cat doesn't know anything.)

Lucy called out softly, her voice gentle and sweet.

Moen took a deep breath and placed the bouquet in the only relatively clean corner by the door.

Fortunately, after checking everything, no other worse things were found besides the ink and paper.

At least Lucy didn't poop or pee indiscriminately, which suggests she's probably a well-behaved house cat, just a bit too energetic.

Moen squatted down next to the pool of ink and stared at Lucy for a while.

He was initially troubled by his cough, but Lucy's actions made him much more awake.

"Speaking of which," he suddenly said, "I still don't know if you're male or female."

Lucy's ears perked up.

The next second, he activated his "clever hands," precisely grabbing the black cat's front legs and flipping it over completely.

"let me see!!!"

"Meow—!!!"

Moen glanced down and nodded thoughtfully.

"Oh, so you're a female cat."

Lucy suddenly stopped moving.

It was held suspended in mid-air by Moen, its amber eyes wide open. Time seemed to stand still for a second or two.

Then, Moen clearly saw that the black cat's fur stood on end at a speed visible to the naked eye.

That expression... how should I put it?

Like a noblewoman whose skirt has been lifted in public.

"Wait a minute." Moen suddenly realized he might have done something he shouldn't have. "You wouldn't—"

Before she could finish speaking, Lucy's right front paw swung out.

Moen instinctively released his grip and leaned back. The furry paw grazed his nose, creating a sharp whistling sound.

"Feed, feed, feed!"

Before he could even regain his footing, Lucy had already landed on the ground, her limbs pushing off the ground, her body arched like a black lightning bolt, and she pounced on him again.

Its speed was astonishing, completely unlike the reaction speed of an ordinary cat.

Moen dodged the first claw by sidestepping, but the second claw came right away.

He scurried away, dodging and weaving in the cramped space of the office.

Lucy pursued relentlessly, her claws leaving afterimages in the air, each strike precisely aimed at his face.

"I was just confirming your gender! Is it really that big of a deal?!"

"Meow!!!" (You filthy bastard!!!)

"No, what's there to be shy about, you're just a cat! Aren't all cats like that!"

"Meow meow meow!!!" (Go to hell!!!)

Just then, the sound of a key turning came from the doorway.

Both the person and the cat stopped what they were doing at the same time.

The office door was pushed open, and a small, thin figure walked in.

It's Clara.

Moen paused for a moment, then looked up at the clock on the wall.

It was just past three in the afternoon, more than two hours before Clara's usual school dismissal time.

"Clara? Why are you back so early?"

Clara stood in the doorway, her face pale.

"Brother..." she opened her mouth, her voice much softer than usual, "School's closed."

"Classes suspended?"

"Several students started coughing again during class this afternoon."

"Later, more and more people started coughing, even the teacher from the next class coughed and collapsed. So the principal dismissed everyone early, saying the school would be temporarily closed for a few days, and so on—"

Before she could finish speaking, she suddenly turned her head away, covered her mouth with her hand, and coughed lightly twice.